watercolor empire
by pearypie
Summary: (1894) Teardrops caught on her sooty lashes when she blinked again, wrapping her arms around his neck in the most beautiful imitation of a noose. "Please kiss me." She asked again. "I'm very spoiled you know. I'll cry terribly if you don't kiss me." Elizabeth/Alois


**A/N: Inspired by so-xu's art of an adult Alois! (Check out her tumblr so-xu! She's such an amazing artist and I love absolutely everything she draws.)**

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He'd grown up exceptionally beautiful. The sharp angle of his cheekbones, the glass cut of his jaw—he was a recreation of every beautiful Adonis brought back to life and the winter gold of his hair only served to deride such thoughts when he stood near the sun, haloed in perfect cruelty. His ice blue eyes, so different from the late watchdog's sapphire blue, slid from person to person the way an assassin's blade might—cutting into their throats before moving onto the next. He was never interested long enough to engage anyone in polite conversation. Those who did manage a few words learned that his voice dripped with cool mockery, that his mouth spoke of sinful things, and his touch seared through flesh and bone.

The Trancy earl looked like the loveliest forbidden angel dressed as he was in shades of white and the palest sky blue. His cravat was pinned with a white opal above his pale lavender shirt and a glass of soft gold champagne was held in his left hand. He stood in a darkened corner of Lord Barrington's ballroom, head tilted slightly to the side as he studied the various couples waltzing before him with an expression of cold contempt.

"You look terribly esteemed standing here this evening." The sweet voice of Elizabeth Midford—oh _pardon,_ the derisive voice in his mind mocked— _Lady_ Elizabeth Midford moved to stand beside him.

"Lady Elizabeth." He greeted lazily, eyes flicking down to glance at her slim form. She stood to his shoulder and seemed to be a perpetual summer in comparison to the wintry chill of his own pale appearance. Bedecked in a gown of brilliant emerald (almost as bright as her eyes he noted offhandedly) that was off the shoulder and cut rather seductively betwixt her full breasts. She wore her hair down, in carefully made curls that were held up with butterfly pins of exquisite gold, blending in seamlessly with her own sun-fire hair. She turned to look up at him, smile cheeky. "You seem to be in fine form this evening." He observed.

"Yes well, I've had a bit to drink." She sniffed rather delicately, rosy cheeks a-flush with the sort of ravishing beauty one could only find in Aphrodite's attendants.

Alois felt a stirring of _something_ but ignored it, preferring instead to study Lady Elizabeth instead. She was far lovelier than this gaudy ballroom and far more interesting than these dancing patrons.

"Careful now," he murmured, "even I haven't drunk my fair share." He held the champagne flute between them.

The chandeliers (as there were four of them) cast a sunset glow throughout the marble ballroom and made the champagne in his glass look like the gods ambrosia. She stared at the golden liquid for a few moments before a wide, effusive smile broke across her pretty face.

"My lord I can assure that no one here is capable of outperforming you."

He raised a brow at that statement.

She blushed. "I meant that in terms of drinking." The lady amended, mouth rouged red. He wanted to use his thumb to trace her plump lips, swiping the flavor to see if she truly tasted of cherries and wine. She looked down for a moment, drawing his attention to the way her dress dipped low, allowing him to look on the soft mounds of her breasts and his mouth suddenly desired a taste—just a lick or two, to see if she was sweet like spun sugar and cream.

He tilted up her chin and immediately regretted looking into those wide expressive eyes. She was so unlike her fiancé and his aristocrats of evil—she was incapable of dishonesty, so pure as she was. Full of sincerity, love, and inexplicable kindness as she gazed back at him, lips slightly parted and skin warm to the touch.

"I can't imagine why you're still standing here. A lady such as yourself should never be lacking a dance partner."

And Elizabeth, with all her warmth and burning heat, gave him a simple, impossibly human smile that forced his heart to stutter half a measure before he regained control of himself. _Never again,_ he vowed silently, _never again will I be made a fool._

"I've danced so many rounds I think I've begun to see stars." She laughed. "And anyway I thought it'd be good for Edward to waltz with that beautiful dowager countess instead of staring at her, hopelessly in awe." She leaned in closer, as if she were confiding in him a very great secret. "Do you see Edward there? He's dancing with the lady in the peach satin gown and—oh," she moved closer now, body pressing right to Alois side and _dear god_ —she wasn't just warm to the touch.

She _burned._ Heat radiated off her beautiful body like the August sun and suddenly, his lungs were dry and his blood ran hot with a familiar desire he despised.

"Lord Trancy, _look!_ " She breathed against his shoulder, "I do believe Edward is asking her for another turn about the ballroom! Thank goodness, I don't know how much longer I could have feigned ignorance at his obvious affection for Countess Wimbledon."

"Playing matchmaker, Lady Elizabeth?" And Alois nearly bit his tongue because the slippery coolness of his voice had vanished, replaced instead with a low huskiness that he usually reserved for the bedroom.

She looked up at him, a curious light in her eyes. "It does seem a bit presumptuous of me, doesn't it?" She sighed, and sounded quite resigned. "Well perhaps it is. But the weight of social conventions seem far less important to me than they did four years ago. Before I would have never dared approach Countess Wimbledon without a proper introduction—even though I've known her since I was a girl—and before I would have never dared speak to you in such an impertinent manner—"

"Impertinent?" Alois chuckled. "My lady if you thought _that_ was impertinent then you are still locked behind the propriety of your station." He gave her a sideways glance and raised a mock toast. "Locked behind pretense as you are in that corset."

She flush of brilliant crimson colored her cheeks but whereas before she would have looked down, apologized, and scurried away, now she managed to raise her chin and gaze into Alois's pale blue eyes with a shaky sort of confidence that made him smile. She wasn't brash, no—but she was certainly entertaining. "I'll have you know that I'll be out of this corset by midnight—along with these petticoats and stockings too."

"Will you?"

"Of course I will. I can't very well fall asleep dressed like this."

"No," he mused taking a sip from his glass, "that would make things rather difficult wouldn't it? Though I can't say for sure if your maid will be capable of disentangling you from the contraption you've been forced in."

Her brows furrowed and in her confusion, she'd moved even closer when Alois took her by the hand and began leading her outside.

"Lord Trancy!" Elizabeth cried, looking back at the glittering ballroom even whilst trying to keep up with his measured pace. "What are you _doing!_ "

"It's far too warm in there." Was his curt reply as he dragged her out the mansion, into the gardens, and finally, to a stone bench near the hydrangea blooms. "Much cooler out here, isn't it?"

Elizabeth took her time to look around this floral arcadia with its reflective pools and moonflower fragrance before, at long last, giving an appreciative nod. "Prettier too." She smiled and suddenly, her expression turned coy. "You know Lord Barrington's home rather well, Lord Trancy and I can't help but wonder if the reason for this familiarity is due to his rather beautiful daughter."

"Has he a daughter?" Alois queried, looking down at Elizabeth's flush form. Her warm soft body was like the briar rose, burning in his arms. She felt heavenly and the way she spoke was so _pretty,_ with her rosy mouth and bright eyes, as if she'd just run down the halls of Versailles, hair streaming behind her and laughter echoing the air.

It was such a change from the quiet, solemn girl of four years ago who dressed in black and remained situated at Midford Castle, taking no visitors and visiting Phantomhive's grave religiously, six days a week. Back then Alois had pitied the stupid little girl who'd never known misery or hardship; whose only woe probably stemmed from the agony of thinking she would have to wait an extra year or two before she could wear her custom made wedding gown and attend another party.

But Elizabeth Midford was not selfish in her grief—nor was she ignorant. She continued on, enduring whatever torment she felt with gentle grace—she visited the London orphanage and began reading to the children there, eventually building a little schoolroom where she volunteered five days a week and threw fundraisers so the children could have heat and coal during the winter months. Coincidentally, the London orphanage was also the philanthropic organization Alois offered his patronage to and it annoyed him that she was doing so much good.

So he'd confronted her (she smelled of myrtle leaves and Venetian nights) and somehow, someway, he found himself feeling a reluctant surge of fondness for the young lady who seemed to smile for others even as death and memory plagued her.

And now, Alois realized, he was holding her in his arms. She was tipsy and beautiful and burning into him with white lilies and sweet words. The softness of her breasts could be felt against his chest as his hands slipped from her arms to rest on her waist. And Elizabeth, who looked up at him with tears in her eyes, exhaled a trembling breath.

"Kiss me?" A single tear rolled down her rosy-pale cheek.

"Ladies don't ask for kisses." He teased and she laughed, though it was a different sort of laugh. Bleak and bare, a sad faded delight—it marred the cherubic beauty of Elizabeth, with her apple white skin and endearing presumption. It made her less beautiful and more tangible, as if she truly belonged in his arms and not on some higher plane, kissing the lips of Hebe because, in all honesty, Elizabeth Midford was eternal youth. The vivid eden of fleeting innocence and inarticulate love notes.

Teardrops caught on her sooty lashes when she blinked again, wrapping her arms around his neck in the most beautiful imitation of a noose. "Please kiss me." She asked again. "I'm very spoiled you know. I'll cry terribly if you don't kiss me."

Alois stared at her and he could almost hear the midnight bell breaking the levee round his heart. The icy self-control he'd learned to mimic shattered into pieces he no longer cared to identify because Elizabeth was fire in his arms and she was demanding kisses.

So he complied, inhaling her myrtle sweet scent, and their lips met in a kiss that drew her even closer. She titled her head up and his tongue tasted the sweetness of her mouth; he let out a soft groan of pleasure as his right arm tightened around her waist because he needed to be closer. He stole kisses too numerous to name from her cherry mouth and his lips left a trail of heat down her jaw, to her neck, and finally above her collarbone where his tongue traced patterns against her skin. He suckled the tender flesh there as she held him close, soft gasps permeating the still air around them before Alois was finally, _finally_ able to taste the plump softness of her snowy breasts.

"W-what are you—"

He shushed her with one experimental bite on her left breast, causing Elizabeth to grasp a fistful of his pale blonde hair and, as she did so, a low purr escaped his lips while a wanton, broken cry of _more!_ left hers.

And in that moment she was so undeniably human as he continued to bite, suck, and kiss Elizabeth until she began to squirm in his arms, distinctly aroused and blushing to her fingertips.

"Lady Elizabeth." He murmured against a love bite on her right breast.

"Yes?"

"Turn around."

And so she did.

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 **A/N: I don't know how this came to be but here it is XD**

 **Feedback appreciated :)**


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